Mists of Memory
by bluegoldrose
Summary: During Grissom's time away from Vegas, he meets someone from his past which leads to the reopening of old wounds and the begining of new mysteries. [Set after Leaving Las Vegas] [hints of GrissomOC] PLEASE READ NOTE.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This story was written mostly by my mom, so the storyline characters, and most of the words are hers. I did the editing and some of the wording, so if there are errors, I am very sorry. This story has been being developed for two years, with some of the early parts being added more recently.

This story begins during Grissom's sabbatical. Sara and Grissom do **not** have a romantic relationship. That's all I can think of at this moment.

Please read and review.

* * *

Mists of Memory

It is winter. There is snow on the ground around the pond and lightly resting on the water. Two people are walking around the lake in opposite directions; slowly they are coming closer to one another. One is a man who is wearing a hat and long overcoat. The other figure is a woman; she is wearing a long black cape with a hood. They are lost in their own thoughts, yet each has an awareness of the other as they near. Their paces slow, and they look towards one another indirectly. The woman smiles with bemusement, and the man turns as she passes, puzzled. Painful memories stir in depths of the mind of Gil Grissom.

He has come to Walden Pond to escape the pressures of a hectic career, which has been wearing him down for the past several months. He has come to teach others the science of using insects to help solve crimes. He is has also come hoping to spend some time with a former professor of his, who will also be speaking at the seminar.

After talking to his group of students, Grissom is now on his way to the class he is eager to observe. In the back of his mind, his thoughts still linger on the woman he passed that morning; there is a familiarity about her which he cannot shake.

When he enters the hall, he realizes that the speaker is not the one he came to hear, but someone else whom he knew long ago. Jessica Davis, a forensic psychologist currently on leave from the FBI, has taken the place of Dr. Williams, the man who Grissom had come to see. It only takes a moment for Grissom to register that she was indeed the one he had walked past that morning, that it was really her and not someone who looked similar to her. He feels rather foolish for not immediately recognizing the woman he had once lived with for four years.

After the question and answer session at the end of the lecture concludes, and the students begin to file out, Grissom approaches her to talk privately.

"You don't look eighty-two," he says as he walks up to her.

"Dr. Williams is not well and asked me to fill in for him," Jess replies. "Did you enjoy your walk this morning?"

"Why didn't you say something?"

"I didn't realize it was you at first, and I figured we would run into each other here." An uncomfortable silence starts to grow between them, as their thoughts turn to unspoken questions. She breaks the silence with the only thing she can think to say, "Would you like to go to lunch? I'm staying with the professor and I know he would love to talk to you again." Grissom looks a little uncomfortable, but she pushes on hoping that maybe they can talk later. "Look, he doesn't have long to live and this may be your last chance to see him before he dies."

"All right," he says finally, and then they leave.

Grissom and Jessica walk along in silence as they approach the door of Dr. Williams' home. "How long have you been living here," Grissom finally asks.

"I've been here about a month. When I got back to the states two months ago I received several dozen messages from different people, and one was from him. He wanted me to visit him while there was still time left, so I came here. I sent messages back to some of the others," she pauses and looks at him. "Including you. Why were trying to find me?"

"I wanted to talk to you."

She nods, and then they walk through the door of the large estate. It is a three story stone house with ivy growing up the walls. Large trees are growing on the grounds, showing that the property is very old. Inside the house has large, spacious rooms with ornate molding on the ceilings and walls. Many of the floors are wood, while others are stone. The home is furnished and decorated in a variety of older styles.

In the foyer they are greeted by an elderly woman, she is Mary, the professor's wife. "John will be delighted to see you," she tells Grissom. "He was hoping to see you before the end. You were always one of his favorite students; both of you were. It is a shame that you didn't stay together." Grissom and Jess exchange a glance, knowing that the subject was something they had never dealt with, and neither wanted to either. Mary however continued on, choosing to ignore their discomfort. "You will come and stay with us won't you Gil? There's plenty of room."

"I'm staying at a hotel," he replies as they walk into a sitting room. It is decorated in red velvet, very much the picture of a Victorian parlor.

"Please, have a seat, I'll go see if John is up to having visitors and I'll check on lunch too," Mary says as she exits the room through another door.

When they sit Grissom says, "This must be hard for you."

"You mean because I used to run away from painful situations," Jess states irritably.

"No," he responds, and they fall into silence again, unable to find the words to breach the gap that has formed over many years. Several minutes before Jessica breaks the silence. "Why were you looking for me," she asks, bringing up the question she had asked before they entered the house. "There had to be more to it than just a desire to talk, even though there's a lot we need to say to each other. I know that when the FBI told you I was missing you started a search for me. Didn't it occur to you that if the FBI said one of their agents was missing that there was a good possibility that it was because I was doing something which required me to not be found by anyone?"

"I was worried," he replies.

"Is that all," she asks, her eyes searching his.

"I wanted to make sure everything was all right, that you were ok."

"Why?"

Grissom opens his mouth to say something, but at that moment Mary enters the room. She walks over to Grissom and tells him that he can go up and see her husband. He and Jessica exchange a look, knowing that their conversation would continue later. Then Grissom walks with Mary up a flight of stairs and down a long corridor where she motions to an open doorway. "He's awake, and doing well for now. I have to go check on lunch still."

"Thank you," he says softly, and she presses her lips into a thin smile before leaving. Quietly, Grissom walks into the bedroom. Lying in an old oak four-post bed is Dr. John Williams. He is frail, his body ravaged by the effects of cancer. He had taught Grissom everything he knew in the field of psychology, and has been his friend for many years. Grissom sits on a chair, which is at the head of the bed.

The old man looks at him and smiles faintly. In a frail voice he says, "It's been a long time. What have you been doing?"

Grissom shrugs and tries in vain to hide the emotions churning inside him. "Work," he replies finally.

"You can't spend your life hiding in a lab. You have to get out and experience the fun side of life." He gives Grissom a stern look, and Grissom nods in agreement. His demeanor softens again, and he asks, "Have you and Jess made peace at last?"

"We haven't really had a chance to talk."

"She needs you." Grissom looks bewildered, his mind currently flooded with too many strong emotions to know how to handle them all. John looks at him with concern and caring, calming some of Grissom's turmoil. "Neither of you will ever be able to find peace until you deal with your loss together. You both have lost yourselves in work, you in a lab, and her in a quest to track a killer. You've both consumed your lives in avoiding really living. In the end it's not worth it."

At a loss for words, Grissom just looks at his friend; this wasn't exactly the reunion he had been hoping for. Having a friend say that you've wasted your life is hard to hear. "You should look at the painting on the walls in her room," John says, shaking Gil out of his thoughts.

"All right, I will. I'll come back to see you later."

"Thank you. I look forward to it," he replies with a smile. "Turn right when you leave my room, her room is at the end of the hall."

"Thank you," Grissom says. A moment later, he leaves the room and walks down the hall to Jessica's room. The door is half-open, so instead of knocking, he says, "Jessica?"

"Yeah," she replies as she appears in the doorway. "That was a short visit."

He shrugs. "He says that I should see the painting on your walls."

She half smiles as she opens the door and motions for him to enter the room. "_A_ painting is an understatement"

As he enters, he realizes that the _painting_ is actually a mural which covers all of the walls in the room, except that one wall is covered by sheets. "Eighteen years ago you suggested that I should come here," she begins. "When I came, John suggested that I should paint my feelings on the walls since I wouldn't talk about them to anyone. I also wasn't sure at first of how to talk to him, and how much to say, so this became my form of therapy."

The first wall in the series, to the left of the covered wall, was painted dark red. On it were black images resembling people being abused. It was a depiction her childhood, and the largest of the images represented her strangulation and near death at age fifteen. To the right, the next wall after the covered one, showed a long road, winding its way through jungles and forests. Along the bottom of the wall were many greyish-white rectangles—graves. The final wall, where the door was, was the most peaceful of the images. It was an image of the ocean, with sand on the bottom of the wall and waves higher up. Above the waves was the sky, which became darker the higher up the ceiling one looked, and above that was the ceiling, which was dark blue, with hundreds of stars painted on it.

Silence filled the room as Grissom took in all of the images. He stood in awe of the contrasts of horror and peace which represented her life. "I've added to it over the years," she says softly as he walks around the room.

"What's on this wall," he asks as he stands before the covered wall.

With pain in her eyes she answers, "You may not want to go there." Her warning however comes too late, because he has already pulled on the sheet, and let it fall from the hooks that held it up. She closes her eyes with a sad sigh, and then watches him as he steps back to take in the image.

The wall was painted more intricately than the rest. The image was of a grassy meadow, with a bright blue sky in which there were white clouds and a brilliant yellow sun. There were birds and butterflies in the mural, along with flowers, maple trees, and various insects. Yet in the center of the image, giving it a feel of deep sadness, was a dark cloud under which there was another grave, far lager than the ones on the other wall. As he reads the name on the tombstone, his eyes fill with tears and the pain that has been buried within him for years shows clearly on his face. The name on the grave brings back memories of joy and pain; it is the name of his infant son, a child who had died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome when only three weeks old.

At that very moment, there is a knock on the door. Turning to see who is there, Gil sees the same look of pain on Jess's face. Mary enters the room with a tray of sandwiches and tea, places it on a table and leaves wordlessly.

* * *

_TBC..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Mists of Memory: ****Chapter 2**

**From Chapter One:**  
_The wall was painted more intricately than the rest. The image was of a grassy meadow, with a bright blue sky in which there were white clouds and a brilliant yellow sun. There were birds and butterflies in the mural, along with flowers, maple trees, and various insects. Yet in the center of the image, giving it a feel of deep sadness, was a dark cloud under which there was another grave, far lager than the ones on the other wall. As he reads the name on the tombstone, his eyes fill with tears and the pain that has been buried within him for years shows clearly on his face. The name on the grave brings back memories of joy and pain; it is the name of his infant son, a child who had died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome when only three weeks old._

_At that very moment, there is a knock on the door. Turning to see who is there, Gil sees the same look of pain on Jess's face. Mary enters the room with a tray of sandwiches and tea, places it on a table and leaves wordlessly._

**Chapter Two:**  
"The reason I wanted to find you," Grissom beings quietly. "The real reason; is that a friend of mine nearly died several months ago. He was shot, and I had to tell the doctors whether or not to operate. It made me think about all the people I had let pass from my life without really having a chance to say goodbye. Never resolving what happened with us, with our son, is probably the biggest regret of my life."

"Mine too," she replies softly. "I… I'm glad that you care. I never knew how to move on, except to do this," she says, motioning towards the walls. "Then there was my work."

"John mentioned that. He said you were looking for a killer. Your attacker?"

"Yeah. Why don't we sit," she says with a motion to several large cushions on the floor. "There is something I think you should hear." He goes to the cushions and sits, while she brings the tray of food and sets it between them both. They both sip the tea, and a moment later she begins to tell her tale. "You already know that almost twenty-five years ago I saw my cousin Angie attacked and killed, and that when I screamed the man came after me."

"Yes," he says softly. "And that you were saved by a man who pulled her killer off of you."

"But my savior left me and ran after my attacker. I didn't know who he was, and only after searching through the records of that case did I find out who he was. My rescuer is Detective Jim Brass." Seeing Grissom's expression of surprise, she smiles. "He was working for Camden's police force at that time, but that's not all. About twelve years ago, I went to a seminar in LA taught by Doctor Albert Robbins, now coroner in Vegas. As an example he talked about an unsolved case that was very similar to what I had gone through. In that case, two people had been murdered; their throats had been slashed, and there was bruising around the throat indicating that they had probably been strangled first. The detail about strangulation was not released to the public. I went to Dr. Robbins afterwards and talked to him about that case and my own case. We both realized that the same person could have committed both crimes. I didn't tell him that I was also a victim, just that my cousin was, and that there was another witness."

"Jim Brass," Grissom states with amazement.

"Yes. I'm glad he didn't die when he was shot earlier this year, or rather last year."

"You knew," he asks, not really surprised anymore.

"Knew that he was shot and recovered, yes. Knew that his injury caused you to think about how you've lived your life, not until today." She grins slightly, but then becomes solemn again. "By the time I met Doctor Robbins, I was working for the FBI and was doing some investigating into my case. With the new information I had gained from that conference, I began to believe that my attacker was a serial killer. I was able to start doing more investigating and learned that there were many more cases with the same signature."

"Max Davis helped you get your position didn't he?"

She glares. "Yes, my grandfather's position as a judge helped me to get the position I wanted in the FBI. Me finishing my degree in forensics seventeen years ago also helped. I did my training with your friend Jimmy at Interpol."

"He's not my friend," Grissom replies with irritation.

"Well I met him through you, and he also helped me to get my job, which enabled me to search for a killer, which has been my job for the past twelve years."

Grissom raises an eyebrow, stunned at what she has been doing. "Have you been able to identify him yet?"

"That was the hard part. Until two years ago, I was chasing nothing more than a ghost. Then I found out that a man I thought had died was deep undercover with the CIA. I was able to track him, and found out that there are unsolved murders wherever he has been assigned over the years. All of the victims were killed the same way that Angie was."

"Do you have proof?"

She sighs with frustration. "Not much, however, he has been fired from the CIA, and now they're looking for him. They were supposed to keep tabs on him until I could find more evidence, but they lost him."

"Who is it?"

Jessica looks down at her hands and doesn't answer for a long time. "Tom Davis," she whispers.

"Your father," Grissom gasps. She looks at him and nods, tears are starting to form in her eyes. They stare at one another for awhile him sharing in the disbelief that she has felt for nearly two years. "That's why the FBI took me off the case and gave me a leave of absence."

She looks at him, trying to figure out the thoughts in his mind beyond the expression of horror and astonishment, wondering if he sees the pain she feels in knowing that her father tried to kill her. Finally he breathes deeply and says, "What are you doing now?"

"The same thing I've been doing, trying to catch a killer."

"How can you keep going with this?"

"I have to; my grandfather died recently. The will probates to me in a month and the entire estate goes to me."

"So…"

"It's worth twenty-five million dollars. If I die, it all goes to Tom."

Their gazes meet evenly, and he narrows his eyes, realizing her plan. "So you're planning on using yourself as bait to get your father."

"You could say that." They stare at one another in silence for a while before she picks up a sandwich and starts eating. He knows that their conversation is over for the moment, so after glaring at her for a moment, he eats too. They eat in silence, and the sun begins to set casting a pink-orange glow in the room.

"If you take Mary up on her offer to stay the night, you need to know that sometimes John cries out in his sleep, but there is a nurse that stays with him," Jess states.

"You used to do that," Grissom replies as he searches her face.

"Sometimes I still do," she says softly. "Except now instead of seeing a faceless killer I see the faces of all the victims who died because I couldn't identify a killer, because I wasn't able to identify the man who fathered me as the man who killed Angie and tried to kill me." Grissom looks with sadness at her, and realizes what the gravestones on the wall represent—all of her father's victims.

The next few days pass uneventfully, and Grissom spends most of his time visiting Dr. Williams or walking while reflecting on his past. He also spends time talking to Jessica. On the last day of lectures, he goes to meet her and finds out that she left early. He goes to the Williams's residence and knocks, but there is no answer. Curious and worried, Grissom tries the door and it opens. He walks inside slowly and cautiously, calling Jess's name as he goes. As he walks towards her room, he hears crying and the sound of a paint roller being used. He enters her room and sees that she has painted over all of the walls except for a small portion of the wall where the mural representing them and their son was.

"What's wrong," he asks.

She turns to him, startled, with tears streaming down her face. "John died this morning."

Grissom closes his eyes, feeling like a car hit him. "I didn't realize."

"I didn't know until just before this morning's lecture."

"That must have been hard for you."

"Yeah, I guess, you know how I deal with loss," she replies bitterly.

"That was a long time ago," he says softly. "Some people never recover from the loss of a child."

"And some bury themselves in work so they don't have to feel," she chokes out, an accusation and a regret.

He looks at her with a soft expression. "Sometimes the real world invades your work and makes you wonder what the point is."

"What does that mean," Jess asks with concern.

"Shortly before I came here I saw a man shoot himself," he replies uncomfortably.

"Under what circumstances?"

"A man who was suspected of being a serial killer sent a streaming video message in which he rambled for awhile and then killed himself." He walks closer to her, and for the first time in eighteen years, they are on the same wavelength.

"We both built barriers around ourselves," she whispers. "I came here and painted walls, and then spent years on finding a killer, while you became obsessed with your work in Vegas. But then there came a point where neither of us could handle what we had thrown ourselves into."

"So we both came here."

"But neither of us is really living, I've still been hiding in this room. I can't… I can't hide anymore."

"You're leaving," he states, and she nods in response. "I can't hide anymore either." He takes the roller from her hand and steps towards the wall. Their son's grave is still depicted on the wall. Briefly he touches his son's name, and then he finishes painting over the wall while tears fall down his face. She stares at him the whole time, not knowing what to think. When he is done, he turns back to her, there is blue paint on his clothes and face. "Let's start over with a clean slate."

She smiles through tears and answers, "Soon."

* * *

_TBC..._

Again, this story is not the work of my imagination, but my mom's, so please review, it doesn't take long : )  
and again, any editing mistakes are mine.


	3. Chapter 3

Mists of Memory:  
Chapter 3

A few weeks after Grissom returns to work, he is sitting at his desk and thinking over his conversations with Jessica. He had tried to find out what she was planning on doing to catch her father, but she wouldn't tell him. She refused to tell him any of her plans, saying that she didn't want him to get involved. So when he had returned to Vegas he didn't say anything about what had gone on in Massachusetts. He also didn't mention anything to Brass or Robbins about knowing Jessica. She was constantly in his thoughts, causing him to worry about what she was planning.

In the midst of his reverie his phone rings, interrupting him. There has been a murder at a motel, so Grissom puts his mind back on the job and heads out. He phones Greg on the way to the hotel to tell him that he is assigned to the case. As Grissom arrives at the scene, he begins to observe everything he sees. The motel is old and dingy. There are police cars in the parking lot, and yellow crime scene tape across one door. He sees Jim Brass and Sophia Curtis standing just inside the doorway of the hotel room as he approaches. Behind him, Greg is walking quickly to reach the scene only a few steps after he does. Jim turns to them with a worn expression on his face. "We may have a problem." Grissom gives him a quizzical look, and with a sigh, Brass continues. "The room is registered to one Angie Davis, which is the alias of a friend of mine who works for the FBI."

Grissom's stomach starts to churn, and a feeling of nausea starts to wash over him. "Can you identify her," he asks.

Brass pauses, disturbed. "She was shot in the face, there isn't much left."

"If she's a friend you shouldn't be on the case," Grissom says softly.

"That's why I've been given the lead on this investigation," Sophia replies.

Grissom nods, and then asks with trepidation, "What is your friend's real name?"

"Jessica Davis. I've already notified the FBI. I've been trying to reach her on her cell, but there's no answer."

Then Doctor Robbins arrives. "I thought this was your night off," Grissom says to Al. "This may be a special case," he replies grimly as he enters the room. "Jim told me who victim possibly is, so I decided that I should be the one to take care of her," Robbins says as he walks further into the room and heads towards the body. Greg follows Robbins into the room but keeps his distance so Al can do his job. Grissom stays near the doorway; he is not usually fazed by the crime scenes he investigates but this time he may know the victim.

Grissom looks around the room, trying to see if anything looks amiss. He sees the blood tissues which are sprayed across the walls and floor, and notices that there appears to be no void in the pattern on the ground, indicating that the killer was standing fairly far back when he fired. He sees the single black suitcase which her belongings are still in setting at the foot of the bed, knowing that everything she brought with her would be in that bag. His eyes travel up her body, starting at her sneakered feet, moving to her jeans which are stained red with splotches of her blood, then to her torso, on which the t-shirt is stained dark red with her blood. The size and shape of the body are the same as Jessica. He sees Al taking her liver temperature and cringes, uncomfortable with the idea that the dead woman who lies on the saturated motel room bed is Jessica. He is unable to look at the remnants of her head, a first for him in all his years in the field. He does notice though, that the hair color is the same as Jessica's.

Jim Brass is also still standing in the doorway, shifting restlessly on his feet, he asks Al if he can identify her. "There is too much blood for me to see if she has a tattoo, I'll have to wait till I get her back to the morgue." Grissom looks quizzically at the doctor, "Tattoo?"

"Yes, Jessica has a tattoo of a ladybug on her right shoulder," replies Robbins. Grissom starts to say something and then stops himself, a gesture that the others miss. He takes out his cell phone, presses a few buttons, and places a call. He gets a hold of Catherine, and asks her to help with the crime scene. She complains that this is supposed to be her night off. "I know but I need you on this one, please," he asks. Catherine agrees, and Grissom hangs up and turns to Greg who is busy looking for fingerprints around the perimeter of the room. "I need to leave, but Catherine will be here to help you," Grissom tells Greg, who looks at him questioningly, but just nods in affirmation.

Grissom heads out of the motel room quickly, and rushes into the sanctuary of his car. He breathes deeply, trying to calm the swell of unsettled emotions within him. A moment later, he starts the car and drives away. He doesn't have any particular destination in mind as he drives, he is just trying to escape the torrent of pain and nausea which is threatening to overtake him. After driving around for over an hour, he finds himself near the lab but can't bring himself to return to his office. He heads out again, deciding to go home and take a shower before returning to work.

* * *

TBC...

I do realize the cruelty of leaving this chapter this way. It will be continued soon.

Thank you to ericloca and csifreak04 for your reviews. My mom is happy to recieve the compliments for her work.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Note_: in this chapter there is a crime scene recreation, while it is rather humorous if you visualize the characters acting out the scene, the authoress wishes that the readers try to visualize the crime which is being described.**

* * *

Mists of Memory: Chapter 4

Grissom enters his living room and senses that something is not quite right. He scans the room, which is dimly lit by the moonlight streaming through the window. As his eyes adjust he is able to make his way quietly through the house. Near the door to his bedroom, he encounters a figure coming out of the room. He grabs onto the person and they struggle as they fall to the floor. He feels for the face, when the figure suddenly says, "Gil." He is startled and stammers out his reply. "Jess, you… you're alive… What are you doing here?"

They remain there frozen for a moment, startled, with Grissom in shock because she is still alive. Slowly,he realizes that he is lying on top of her. He slowly raises himself up pulling her with him. "How did you get in here," he asks, his mind clearing, as he leads them both into the living room. As he turns on the light, she replies, "I can get into a lot of places."

"Why are you here," Grissom asks as he stares at her, still not quite believing that she is real.

"I needed some place safe to rest and plan my next step," she replies

"There are a number of people who think you are dead," he tells her.

"Well reports of my death are greatly exaggerated," she replies flippantly.

Grissom stares at her wondering what is going on in her mind. His eyes narrow and he realizes that she hasn't asked why people think she's dead, so he questions her. "Did you know that someone was killed in your motel room tonight?"

She paces around the room, and he sees her flinch. "I just arrived here to meet the person who was supposed to be trailing Tom Davis. She had lost track of him in L.A. and thought he might be headed here. When I got to the motel there were already police cars there and so I came here." Jess sighs heavily and sits down on a sofa. Grissom sits down next to her and asks the name of the person at the motel. "Jillian," she answers. "She and I have worked together for a long time."

He looks at her thoughtfully for a moment and then asks; "Is it a coincidence that she resembles you?"

She gives him a pained expression. "No, we hoped that maybe the resemblance would help draw him out."

Grissom looks at her in disbelief. "Did you really think that would work?" Jess just shrugs. "Do you think he killed her," Grissom asks, trying to get any information.

"I don't know, it doesn't fit his profile, but he may have done it to get to me," she answers finally. "I guess I'm not as clever as I thought I was. I thought he'd come after me at his fathers house in Virginia."

Grissom looks at her incredulously, not knowing what to say next. After sitting there in silence for several minutes, Grissom finally asks, "Are you going to work with us to solve this, or are you just going to let people believe you are dead?"

She looks at him and replies, "Plans are already in the works. My boss is contacting your sheriff now to arrange things."

"What's next?" he asks.

Jess looks around the room, searching for something. She spies her backpack near the door and gets up to retrieve it. Grissom notices that there is a lock pick and some other tools next to it. She turns around with the bag in hand, and for the first time looks at the room in the light. His living room is sparsely decorated with butterflies and other insects mounted in cases on the walls. Grissom, anticipating a reaction from her, says, "The room is fine for me and I'm not here much anyway."

She looks at him and wonders why he needs to defend the sparcity of his lifestyle. Walking over to him, she takes a CD out of her backpack and hands it to him.

He looks at her questioningly. "These are my notes and files on the murders I think are connected," she tells him before he has a chance to ask. Quickly she adds, "I could really use a place to take a nap for an hour or two, and you could catch up on the case."

Grissom nods, takes the discs, and shows her to the bedroom. After she closes the bedroom door, he sits down at his computer, puts in a disc, and starts reviewing the data. There are dates and vital statistics along with pictures of women with their throats slashed. There are also logs of the cities and countries that Tom Davis has been in and the comparison between the two, showing that he was in the places at the time of the killings. Grissom then realizes that Jess has created a time line that goes back to the date of her attack. It took place 25 years ago, on the same day in less than twenty-four hours. He stares in awe at the computer screen; there is a lot of compelling evidence but all of it is circumstantial.

He has been so engrossed in his study that he doesn't realize that three hours have passed. He hears a cry from the bedroom. Recognizing it as the same cry Jess would make in the middle of a nightmare, he remembers with dread the nightmares that she had years ago of a faceless man chasing her and grabbing her by the throat, of how he had to wake her from that terror and hold her until she stopped shaking. It surprises him as he goes toward the bedroom how vividly the memories come flooding back. As he enters the bedroom, she is sitting up with her eyes wide open and a look of terror on her face. Approaching the bed, she looks at him and he realizes she is awake.

"At least I wake up now," she says when she sees the look of worry on his face.

"Same old nightmare," he asks, his tone trying to lighten the mood.

"More or less," she grimaces.

They look at each other a moment, each trying to think of a way to comfort the other but neither quite knowing how. She breaks the silence and asks Grissom if he reviewed the information. He replies that he has, and then she gets out of the bed. "Good," she replies, and then she gets dressed, saying, "Then lets get started, we have a lot to do."

On the way to the lab, Jess calls Jim Brass and Doc Robbins to let them know that she is alive, and gives them the possible identity of the victim. Brass informs her that the FBI is already there and working on the case.

When they get to the lab they are met by the sheriff, Ecklie, and a man Grissom doesn't recognize. Jessica introduces him as Alan Michaels, a co-worker from the FBI. Alan informs her that everything has been arranged. Grissom looks at the other two men questioningly. Ecklie address Grissom, "That means that for the next 24 hours the FBI will have control of the night shift. Try and be cooperative." Grissom rolls his eyes but remains silent. Addressing Alan, Jess asks, "Do you have the files?" He hands them to her. "Thank you, now where can we get to work," she asks the men.

"Grissom will show you." Ecklie replies.

They walk down the corridor and enter a large room with a glass table, which is perfect for laying out photos. "Thank you gentleman, I'll let you know if I need you." Jess states dismissively.

As the others leave the room, Grissom stares in amazement at the transformation in Jess, who is laying out the photos of the previous victims. She had been acting like a frightened victim not much earlier, and now she is a determined investigator. Just as he is about to comment, Catherine, Greg, and Warrick enter the room. The three have been working the murder of the woman in the hotel.

"I hear that this murder may be connected to a serial killer," Catherine says, addressing Grissom as she enters the room. She does not seem to notice Jessica who continues to lay out crime scene pictures.

"It may be," she replies, not even glancing up as she continues her task.

"Who are you," Catherine asks, looking at her for the first time.

"I'm Jessica Davis, I work for the FBI, and I'm in charge of this case," Jess replies, still not looking up. Catherine and Greg look to Grissom for an explanation while Warrick starts to look at the photos.

"The sheriff and lab director have offered our services to the FBI in order to help solve an old case," Grissom informs the others.

"So that's what these pictures are all about," Warrick asks Jess.

"Yes," he answers, looking at him while she replies.

Jim Brass and Doc Robbins enter the room. Al goes over to her and gives her a hug as Brass asks, "You're really going through with this?" Jess frowns at him and says, "One way or another I'm going to get him."

"Get who," Sara asks as she enters the room with Nick right behind her.

"Well it looks as though we have enough people," Jess states as she glances around the room. "For what" several of them ask at once.

"Ever want to walk through someone else's nightmare," asks Jess with a wicked gleam in her eye. "What," some of them reply, while Brass' reply of "no" is barely audible, and Grissom looks at her with a mix of fear and concern.

"Have you ever re-created a crime scene," Jess questions them. They all make sounds and motions of affirmation. "Well," she continues. "I've always waned to re-create an old one and now I have enough people in one room to do it." Handing a paper to Catherine she tells her, "This is an overview of a crime scene, you can make sure the victims end up in the right places." She turns to Jim with a smile, "Do you want to play the part of the hero?" He shakes his head and says, "I don't want any part of this." She looks at him a moment and then shrugs. "Then you can observe with Al and Gil to make sure I don't leave anything out." Grissom looks at her and raises his eyebrows but says nothing. Catherine and the others exchange glances, wondering how she knows the three men. Looking around, she picks out Nick and tells him he can play the hero. Next, she chooses Sara to play the part of the female victim and positions her at one end of the room with Greg next to her; he has been chosen to play the male victim.

Catherine is looking at a crime scene photo of the outline of two bodies lying on the ground, one with dark stains at the back and the other with stains where the neck would be. Jess then turns to Warrick. "I guess that means you get to be the killer," she says, handing him a marker to represent the weapon. Grissom speaks up and volunteers for that part, causing the others look at him questioningly. "I've read the case file," he replies to their stares. Jim and Al exchange a wondering glance. Jess and Grissom hold each other's gaze, she remains silent, but hands him the marker.

"Where do I stand," Nick asks. "Over here near me," Jess replies; then they position themselves at the far side of the room.

Jess narrates as Grissom reenacts the 25-year-old killings, while Warrick, Catherine, Robbins, and Brass look on and match up photos from the original crime scene. As she recounts the story, Jessica keeps her voice monotone as she tries to see the details in her minds eye. "The first two victims, that's you two," she says to Greg and Sara. "Stand close together in an intimate pose," Jess finishes, causing several stifled smiles. Jess glares a little, but continues the same as before. "Then the killer grabs the young man by the back of his head and slits his throat from behind." As she speaks, Grissom does the same motions to Greg using the marker; Jessica can see the event as it happened. "The young man falls to the ground as the killer grabs the young woman from the front by her throat and starts to strangle her. As he is standing there, another girl comes along, sees them, and screams. The killer slices the first girl's throat, and heads toward the second girl who just stands there staring at him, petrified. Then someone comes along, and grabs the killer's free arm, and all three fall to the ground. The girl crawls away while the two men wrestle. The killer breaks free, and as he runs, he trips over one of the bodies. As he runs away, the hero, who is an off duty police officer on his way home, fires his gun at the fleeing killer, but misses."

Done with the narration, Jess looks up from her position on the floor. Grissom, who is standing by the door now, looks back at her and the others as they lay on the ground. He reaches his hand out to Jess and helps her up off the ground while the others stand up.

"There is no mention of a third person or a police officer involved in this incident," Catherine says, as Grissom and Jess look at each other.

"How much do you remember," Grissom asks her gently. "Nothing beyond seeing Angie with her throat cut," Jess replies somberly with tears in her eyes. "I can't remember the face of the man who's eyes I looked into," she says, pained.

"I can't remember his face either," interrupts Brass his eyes full of pain as he remembers that night. Jess looks from Grissom to Brass and says with compassion, "You were a rookie cop and your choice was to save a victims life or chase after a killer. Would you rather I'd died?"

"Neither of you can dwell on what ifs," interrupts Robbins. The two look at him with the weight of the lives that were lost over the years both realizing that the past can't be changed.

"So you got away," asks Warrick.

"I suppose you could say that," She replies, and then turns to address Catherine. "The fact that I was a victim was kept out of the official reports because my grandfather was a powerful judge. Several month s later he sent me to California. Years later, I started investigating this case and uncovered additional information that I've added to the files." She pauses, and then changes the subject. "So now what can you tell me about the killings," Jess asks addressing the group. "You can look at the pictures of the other victims and tell me what you observe, what similarities there are?"

"He strangles his victims first," replies Warrick

"How," asks Grissom.

"One handed," adds Sara, remembering the way Grissom had grabbed her.

"His right hand," continues Nick

"Wow," responds Greg somewhat amazed. "He must have big hands." Grissom gives him a look and Greg looks sheepish at his youthful exuberance. Jess has a slight grin on her face at Greg's outburst. Then she fills them in on what the notes don't say. "All of the victims have been strangled first and then their throats were slit. Either two victims, as in the first case we can connect to him, or sometimes just one. They occur once a year at the same time as the first murders. The murders usually occur in a park. He either grabs them at an intimate moment and kills the man first and then the woman, or he observes a fight and grabs the woman as she runs away." Silence fills the room.

"How does this connect to the shotgun vic from tonight," asks Catherine.

"We are not certain it does," Grissom responds. The others give him confused looks.

"The woman that was killed tonight was tracking the man we suspect of being the killer. He may have killed her to get to me." "Why," Sara asks with a look of puzzlement on her face. Jess continues, "Because he knows I'm tracking him. I've been following his trail for two years and wherever he's been a dead body or two has turned up. Each killed in the same manner."

"Then why is he still out there," asks Nick.

"We have no forensic evidence linking him to the killings." She pauses uncertain if she should say more, but then adds, "He also worked for the CIA, and that is why I would rather have your help than use the feds." The others look on in disbelief.

"Then you know who the killer is," interjects Greg. She nods and glances at Grissom but doesn't elaborate

"What do you want from us," Catherine questions.

"I want some of you to keep working on the murder case." Jess responds and then turns to Doc Robbins and asks if the dead woman has been positively identified yet. He informs her that the finger print results are not back yet. She nods and continues, "I want others to keep tabs on me. That way if he does come after me we can get him.

"How," Warrick asks.

"I have an ID chip implanted in my arm; you can keep track of me if I go missing…again." She adds glancing at Grissom, Robbins, and Brass. She continues, "If he attacks, you can either get him or the evidence on him. I plan on going bar hopping to any place near a park," she finishes.

An uncomfortable uncertainty starts to grow in the room; Grissom addresses the group, "Catherine and Greg continue on the shot gun case, you can have Sara if you need her. Warrick can work with Nick and I on this case." Jess glances at Grissom and says, "The killings always occur between 11 pm and midnight." Grissom continues, "You all know what you need to do." With that, he indicates that they are dismissed, and they all start to file out. Grissom looks at Jess, recognizing she left out significant information.

Doc Robbins waits until only he, Jim, and Grissom remain in the room with Jess before he asks the later two, "How well do you two know each other?" Grissom and Jess look at each other and she responds, "Is it that obvious?" "No," Al responds, "but Grissom knows details I thought only the three of us knew."

"You can probably put the pieces together yourselves; we have a lot to do before tonight," Jess replies wearily. The answer is not what the coroner is looking for, but he lets it go.

"I still don't like this," Jim informs her.

"I know, but if he wants his father's money he's coming after me anyway. I inherit at midnight and then he can't touch it. Besides, I would rather it be me than someone else lying on the autopsy table in the morning," she says softly. They each avoid looking at each other, and stare down at the faces on the table. There is an air of resignation in the room.

* * *

TBC... 

thank you csifreak04 for your review.


	5. Chapter 5

Mists of Memory: Chapter 5

Later that night, Grissom and Jess are sitting at a bar in the shadier side of town. She has her hair pulled back in a hair band and is wearing a flowing top and skirt. Grissom recognizes the outfit as being similar to the one in the crime scene photo of her cousin Angie--the first known female victim. The two are sitting side by side looking at each other and not knowing what to say. In the background, Sophia and Nick are dancing, as are Warrick and another police woman.

"Why that outfit," Grissom finally asks.

"I'm hoping to trigger something," replies Jess.

"How many more bars are we going to tonight," asks Grissom wearily.

"It's after eleven now, if it's going to happen it will have to be soon," she states.

She hears Jim Brass' voice in the earpiece that she is wearing stating that a man fitting the description of Tom Davis has been spotted in the southeast corner of the park. She looks at Grissom with fearful anticipation and says, "This may be it." Grissom gives her a look of despair as he follows her out the door. He grabs her and pleads, "Don't do this." She tries to break away. "Let go" she cries, playing her part in the setup. She breaks free, and starts to run putting some distance between her and Grissom. She passes between some trees, and is suddenly grabbed from behind.

She struggles to get free, but he has her by the throat. Just then, she hears a voice yelling, "Stop this is the police, let her go." Her attacker turns around, keeping Jess in front of him so that she is standing between him and Jim Brass with a knife at her throat. Brass' gun is drawn and pointed at them. Grissom approaches from the side with his gun drawn.

"Stop both of you now or she's dead." Shouts Tom Davis angrily.

"You're planning to kill her anyway," replies Brass.

"Maybe I'll make a last minute confession," retorts Tom.

"So you can brag about how you've gotten away with killing for so many years," asks Grissom sarcastically.

"There is a lot more I could tell about," he replies.

"What is that supposed to mean," Brass asks.

Tom levels his gaze at Grissom. "She was wonderful as a child, wasn't she?"

"I wouldn't know." Grissom responds.

"Really, you don't know what you're missing." Jess shifts slightly, causing the knife to cut into the outer layers of her skin. She grimaces, but is unable to move, yet even in her terror, her mind races to think of a way out. Brass and Grissom both look disgusted; hearing Tom bragging about abusing his daughter disturbs them. "When she was taken away I needed to find pleasure somewhere else," Tom continues.

"So you turned to killing," Brass spits vehemently.

"Not at first," he says. "Imagine how I felt when I saw her out partying and enjoying herself with other men. I watched until I couldn't take it anymore."

Grissom interrupts Davis' reverie, "So you stopped it with a knife. The only problem was you got the wrong girl and realized you liked the killing more than the sex."

Tom starts to grin maliciously, and Grissom can see the fear in Jess' eyes. She grabs hold of Tom's arm just as the targeting laser of a sniper rifle zeros in on Tom Davis' head. Grissom and Brass move forward as the bullet explodes into Tom's skull. Both Jess and Tom fall to the ground covered in blood. Jess jumps up and starts to scream hysterically, "No, no, no," over and over. Grissom grabs hold of her and puts his hands on either side of her face. He looks into her eyes and says, "It's over, you're free." She stares at him and starts to cry. He wraps his arms around her, pulls her against his chest, and backs away from the scene.

There is an ambulance waiting at the edge of the park, and he walks her over to it slowly so that she can be checked out. Meanwhile, Brass and the other investigators take care of the scene. Jim Brass sighs deeply; he feels a mix of satisfaction and sadness that it took so long to catch this killer.

* * *

Later the next day, Grissom is in his office reviewing the reports on the gunshot killing when Jess walks in. "I hear that they found the car Tom Davis was using," she says to him. 

"Yes, and there is evidence that he had a gun but we couldn't find it. There was gun shot residue on his hands," he shrugs.

"So we can't be sure he killed Jillian," she states.

"No but it's likely that he did," Grissom replies. "How bad are your injuries?" He asks, noticing the bruises and cut on her neck.

"They're not that bad, and the cut is only superficial," she says uncomfortably. "I'll need your report as soon as possible," she informs him.

He looks at her a moment evaluating her. "What's bothering you," he asks. She looks uncomfortable, but doesn't answer, so he asks her a question that has been on his mind. "The locator chip wasn't for us to find you, was it?"

"No," she replies after a few moments. "I wanted him to find me, and I figured that he would find out about the chip and try to locate me that way."

"What else is wrong?"

She lets out a deep breath. "There had to be people protecting him all these years, and I figured they would continue to help him, at least until they could get rid of me or take him out."

"You believe that's what they did," he asks.

"Yes," she replies softly. "I think the CIA executed him to protect themselves. Someone had to have known or at least suspected what he was doing."

"You wanted to get them too," Grissom asks sympathetically. She nods in affirmation. They look at each other, both knowing you can't always get all the bad guys.

"What are you going to do next," he asks.

"Finish this case, and then give away my grandfathers estate." Grissom looks at her questioningly. "I don't want anything to do with either of them. After that, I don't know." They look at each other neither sure what to do next.

Finally, Grissom breaks the silence. "What's your number?"

She gives him a half smile and walks toward his desk. "Do you have a pen?" Grissom hands her a pen, and then she says, "Hold out your arm." He cocks his head at her questioningly, but complies. She proceeds to write her phone number on his inner arm. He looks at his arm, and then up at her and smiles.

"Call me," she says, and then Jessica leaves.

Grissom watches her as she goes, knowing that the slate has been cleaned. That the story of their lives hasn't ended with the closing of a chapter, but has caused the beginning of a new story. The ghosts of their pasts would go away, and the unspoken memories wouldn't hurt anymore. Grissom smiles; whatever happens next, whether they would remain friends or become more again is unknown, all he knows is that there are possibilities.

The End

* * *

_I don't know whether or not I'm satisfied with the end, but it is better than where it would have ended before. Thank you to Donnac and Csifreak04 for your reviews of the last chapter. And thanks to everyone who read this story._


End file.
